


goodnight, goodnight

by arekiras



Series: a thousand fingerprints [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Family, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekiras/pseuds/arekiras
Summary: The baby monitor emits a series of tinny cries where it sits on the bedside table, and on the black and white screen Alec can make out his daughter wiggling around in her crib, working herself up into a tantrum. He hits Magnus on the shoulder with the back of his hand, and at the responding grunt, he says, “Your daughter is awake.”An evening with the Lightwood-Banes





	goodnight, goodnight

The baby monitor emits a series of tinny cries where it sits on the bedside table, and on the black and white screen Alec can make out his daughter wiggling around in her crib, working herself up into a tantrum. He hits Magnus on the shoulder with the back of his hand, and at the responding grunt, he says, “Your daughter is awake.” 

“My daughter,” Magnus grumbles, swinging his feet out of bed. They switch nights, as they both have full time jobs and can’t afford to both be sleepless all the time. On Thursday nights, she is his daughter. 

He feels a shirt on the floor by his feet and shrugs it on. It smells like baby lotion and by the tightness in the sleeves, Magnus determines that it’s Alec’s. Alec, who is already snoring, having turned down the monitor as soon as Magnus got up. 

They’ve had the baby for five months now, and she’s eight months old, which means Magnus has had to say goodbye to all of his necklaces and bracelets, which she can’t wait to get her mouth on. She’s taken to trying to teeth on his rings, also. 

When he gets to the nursery she cries louder at the sight of him, sitting up in her crib and clutching the bars like a woeful prisoner. 

He takes her and her favorite pacifier out of the crib and sits in the rocking chair in the corner, laying her on his chest and rocking back and forth slowly. She sniffles, petting his shirt with her tiny fingers mournfully, pressing a cheek to his sternum. He leans his head down and rubs his cheek in her downy soft black hair, feeling the beginnings of horns poking up from the gentle curls. 

He snaps and the lamp by her bed turns on, a projection of stars shining on the ceiling, rotating slowly to the soft music playing from it. He hums along, rocking them both gently. 

The rocking chair is well worn, both Magnus and Alec having spent their fair share of nights in it, falling asleep cradling a restless baby. Magnus hopes tonight won’t be like that, he yearns for his bed and for the warm body of his husband beside him. 

He rocks for nearly twenty minutes, humming to his daughter and stroking her back, rubbing his face in her sweet smelling hair. Finally, carefully, he rises and stands still, continuing to hum as she shifts, adjusting to the disturbance. Then, he deposits her back in bed, placing the musical lamb she loves so much in her arms and winding it up so it plays Swan Theme, which drowns out the snick of the latch on the door as he pulls it shut. 

Magnus almost makes it back to his and Alec’s bedroom when he smells the smoke. The stupor that his daughter’s room put him in vanishes and he runs down the hall, opening the door to his son’s bedroom. He’s sleeping, but his face is clammy and scrunched up in an expression of distress, his favorite blanket burning under his hands as he clenches his fingers into the soft fabric. 

Magnus flips on the lamp and shakes his son awake gently, knowing how upset he can get when woken from a nightmare. At least he isn’t sleepwalking this time, Magnus reflects. It had been quite an ordeal waking up to a burning kitchen and screaming toddler standing in the middle of it, hands glowing. 

He slides his fingers over his son’s short hair, other hand going to the blanket and extinguishing the flames. “You’re dreaming, baby,” he says, resting his chin on the pillow. 

After a moment, he blinks open his eyes and stares at the ceiling confusedly, chin wobbling with the threat of tears. “It’s okay, sunshine,” Magnus says, stroking a knuckle down his face. “It was a dream.” Alec and Magnus had taken the boy in two years ago, when he was three, and he hadn’t ever told them if he had a name before, so they called him various nicknames until the name Sunny had stuck. Sunny has nightmares, which are often destructive because he loses control of his magic. Magnus has replaced three rooms in the loft, as well as several beds and sofas. They keep fire blankets stashed around. 

After several gulping breaths, Sunny says, “My blanket,” with a tone of such defeat that Magnus almost laughs. He doesn’t, just waves his hand, healing the scorched fabric of the spring green blanket, smiling when his son buries his face in it. 

“Are you alright?” Magnus asks, and the boy nods his small head, looking up at Magnus. “Want to come sleep with us?” Magnus offers and the boy nods again eagerly, clutching his blanket tight as Magnus picks him up out of bed. He’s only five, but much heavier than he used to be. Or maybe Magnus is just getting old. 

They go back to Magnus and Alec’s room, and after a quick check in the closet, bathroom, and beneath the bed to make sure no monsters lurked, get into bed. Sunny immediately claims most of Magnus’ pillow and digs his cold feet into Alec’s back, making him flinch and roll over, blinking at his husband and son before pulling the offending toes away from his skin and throwing an arm over the child, fingers brushing Magnus’ arm lightly. 

Magnus tucks his son’s head under his chin and begins singing under his breath, continuing the lullaby until both of his boys are snoring in tandem and he’s weaving in and out of consciousness himself, eyelids heavy. 

He’s almost back asleep, two warm bodies crowded against him, when the baby monitor crackles with demanding, high pitched cries coming from the nursery. 

He blinks his eyes open and sighs, getting up again. 


End file.
